Dregs of Violets Crushed
by graceofnight
Summary: Oneshot in which Barty Crouch Jr. is sent on a mission to kill someone from his past. Angst ensues.


_Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it. - Mark Twain_

Crouch always enjoyed this part of his job. His instructions were only to remove the adversary, but surely the Dark Lord wouldn't mind if he had a little fun first. Especially with this one. She was one of the worst kinds that Death Eaters were sent after. Worse even perhaps than the Mudbloods: blood traitors having thrown in their lot with Dumbledore and his meddling bunch of misfits. They burnt Crouch in his already blackened soul and he enjoyed the torture of them most of all.

But this one was proving difficult. Already submitted to five minutes varied only by the periodic taunting that inevitably came with it, her spirit had still not broken. Her strawberry blonde hair disheveled around her pallid face and her violet eyes clenched shut were the only signs of pain; throughout the discourse of her torment she did not betray a sound. She opened her eyes slightly and a soft voice said,

"You're going to have to be more creative than that, Barty."

Crouch lowered his wand, dumbstruck. In a fury, he ripped off his hood.

"Leave," he snarled to the two other Death Eaters standing beside him.

"But-" one of them began, cautiously.

"LEAVE!" he roared. Not wishing to upset him further, the two Death Eaters hastily complied.

For several moments, the Death Eater and his victim remained silent, the only sound coming from the girl's ragged breathing.

"You can't hurt me Barty."

He was silent.

"You've broken my heart, but I feel no pain. I would like to ask one question though. Does your mother know you're doing this?"

He glared at her.

"Why do you look at me like I've betrayed you Barty?"

"You have betrayed me, Caroline. By joining that idiot Dumbledore and his gang of blood traitors and Mudbloods. By joining my father."

"We're not all like your father. Dumbledore only wants to preserve a peaceful society for pure bloods and Muggle-borns alike. Why are you doing this?"

"You all stand in the way of the Dark Lord's cause. I am doing what is necessary to restore purity to wizard kind. If only you would repent and join us, I might be able to convince the Dark Lord to spare you." He cupped her face emotionlessly in his cold palm but when he removed his hand, his fingers trailed at her pale cheek with a ghost of affection.

"I shall do no such thing. Barty, your father hurt you, but that is no reason to go on this hellion's crusade. Not out of revenge. There is no reason to destroy the lives of those that love you to live the life of a vigilante. Come back to us, please!"

"Never."

"He can't have blackened your heart beyond healing."

"Our course is beyond personal grievances and I am prepared to do anything necessary to see our goal realized and remove anyone who stands in our way."

"You don't love me then?"

It was a long time before he answered.

"A Death Eater loves no one. Love is for the weak."

Even with that heartless sentiment, Caroline showed no pain, but the agony was in her eyes. When she opened them again a fire burned within her pretty lavender irises but it was blurred by walls of tears. Her chest heaved in her heartbreak and failure and she said,

"Do your deed then."

He removed all expression from his features and his face was like stone. Then for the last time, he locked eyes with Caroline. A second's hesitation allowed his victim one last word.

"I love you."

An expression of fury overtook his face and he snarled "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Crouch's face remained still as the spark of life in his victim was extinguished. As he passed the threshold, his face obscured by his hood once more, he saw the two Death Eaters standing on the grass, waiting for him.

"Is it done?" on said.

"Yes. It is done."

He raised his wand into the air and howled "MORSEMORDE!"

He signaled to his companions that it was time to leave. They prepared to apparate and leave behind the wretched mausoleum in which its traitorous occupant now slept, her eyes closed and her hands folded over her chest. Crouch turned to look at the spectacle one last time and as he did so, a single tear fell from his eye, all which remained of Bartemius Crouch II.

**Das Ende**

A/N: Not my best work by any stretch, but there it is. This is by no means my first fanfic, but it's my first posted story. Review or face the wrath of my hormonal voodoo doll. If you would like to see more of my handiwork, check out Of Darklords and Milkbones, which I wrote with my friend and co-founder of MischiefManagedInc.


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